


Drew Baker: Unlikely Voice of Reason

by Kyrakat



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Injuries, No Smut, Slight Waige
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 09:44:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8440825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyrakat/pseuds/Kyrakat
Summary: After he ordered her gross bar food, he tapped the top of the bar in impatient waiting. Stretching his pitching arm he turned to check on his ex’s drunk co-worker, wondering when exactly his life stopped making sense.In Drew’s defense, he did have control of the situation for the first hour. They sat quietly, Happy staring straight ahead and Drew staring down at his glass. The bartender wouldn’t have known they were there together if it wasn’t Drew who threw crumpled dollar bills down every time Happy grunted out an order...which was often. It wasn’t until Drew tried to make small talk, did his hold on the situation start to crumble.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ah yes the Drew/Happy fic where 2/3s was written in a span of 11 months and 1/3 in the span of an hour, all of which nobody asked for. 
> 
> Things I know nothing about: alcohol, whiplash, and heterosexuals. You've been warned. Written pre-s3, but set like 3-ish years in the future.

Tonight's fight wasn’t like the others. There were no personal jabs, no smashed objects, no noise complaints. They were both run down, but Happy would have played the part she played so many times in the past, if his eyes hadn’t been so hopeless as he packed up his belongings. It wasn’t her decision...but she didn’t object, didn’t beg him to stay. She was furious, of course, but she was quiet. She stood still as death even after Toby had softly closed the door behind him. She knew exactly how much time was passing, her mind never played tricks on her, and yet she counted the seconds, the minutes, in her head. _57, 58, 59, that makes 46 minutes, 1, 2, 3…_

Her fury like a bubbling river of lava in her gut, built up, and built up, until…

“I need to get the fuck over myself. I can’t...stay here anymore,” she hissed, letting out the breath she was wholly aware that she had been holding. She grabbed her folder of important documents she had made in case she needed to get out of town quick, the folder she had just recently moved out of her car into a box under their bed, and in a flurry of leather and metal she was out the door.

She told herself she was leaving to make it easier on the team. She told herself she was leaving because she was more mad at Toby leaving her than she had ever been angry at anyone before in her entire life. Their connection was broken, the connection that went back to her first week on the job. They couldn’t work together like that.

Her father, he had never promised her he’d stick around. He had never held her and told her over and over that he would never leave. She could forgive her dad because he hadn’t bothered to promise her anything. So she told herself that she was driving out of town because Toby broke his promise.

Her increasing speed and tightening of her grasp on the steering wheel, however, that wasn’t about Toby...as much as she’d try to tell herself it was. She’s smarter than that, she’s always been smarter than that.

It’s always her. It’s always something she did. She couldn’t quite put a finger on what it is, what she did to earn her own wrath, but it was there. Maybe it was for losing him, maybe it was for not begging him to stay, maybe it was because she believed him in the first place. She didn’t care, she just drove.

...except she couldn’t bring herself to drive straight out of town. Slowing down and glancing in the backseat she realized that she left her favorite toolbox back at the garage. It was almost 8:30, Walter would most likely be absorbed in a project in the loft, or at least she hoped so. As long as she was quiet and got out of there before Paige snuck over she would be fine. She knew how to play invisible, she could get away with it even if she stayed long enough to write them a note. She owed Walter that, Sylvester and Paige too. Maybe she even owed Toby some closure too.

She was too late. From a half a block away she could see Paige’s car in the lot...as well as Drew’s. With a muttered ‘fuck,’ she pulled into the lot anyway, keeping far away from the other cars, to formulate an alternative plan. Both of their vehicles at the garage could only mean one thing. Walter, she could deal with, she could hold it together and pretend like she wasn’t absolutely breaking down. There was no way Happy could go in there and look Ralph in the eye and act like this wasn’t going to be the last time she was going to see him. She thought it might actually kill her.

The steering wheel was cool against her skin as she rested her head. She let out a frustrated groan as she racked her genius brain for a solution. It wasn’t the toolbox, it was never the toolbox. Calling was an option, one she wouldn’t risk until she was out of town, but even then there was a chance they’d still track her call and go after her. Still, she didn’t think that in her current condition she could take Walter’s voice when he attempted to be professional when heartbroken.

Happy never quite got used to being loved; probably another reason her and Toby didn’t work out, she admitted to herself. Despite not being entirely comfortable with it, she knew the team loved her...which meant it was only logical that they’ll miss her. Being missed was a completely new experience to her, one she was becoming increasingly apprehensive about.

None of her feelings about the team invalidated her previous reasoning, however. She decided on sending an email later, or even a handwritten letter if she was still feeling paranoid and sentimental.

So she gathered herself up, convinced herself that Walter would find her on security footage in the morning and that would settle his mind at least enough to leave her be for the time being. Taking a large breath, she filled her lungs with her past, her happiness, her home, her family. Before letting it all go, she put her truck in reverse and backed out violently.

Instead of it being a relaxing renewal of her new life, her breath hissed out of her as her truck hit something solid. Her lava laden insides ran cold as her chest hit the steering wheel. It was the unmistakable sound of metal tearing into metal and somewhere in the back of her mind she was thankful that it wasn’t a person. Opening her eyes she had squeezed shut in reflex, she attempted to retrieve her bearings. She attempted to turn around to see whose car she hit, but her body protested.

Running numbers in her head, she pushed the door open with the arm that wasn’t killing her. _‘Please don’t be someone I care about,’_ she thought to herself, _‘the guys can take that level of impact, but Cabe’s frail geezer body does not need something like this...and Walt would definitely track me down if I hurt Paige - damnit why do i ruin everything-_

Her lightning-like thoughts ceased when she recognized the car and the man tumbling out of the dark interior, visibly upset. 

“If by some ironic chance that there’s a God,” she whispered to herself, her chest tight with panic and pain, “please dear God don’t let Ralph be in there.”

Her brain caught up to her heart; Drew seemed wholly concerned about his vehicle and his pitching arm. Despite Toby’s disdain for the man wearing off on her, she knew Drew was a great dad who would have been completely beside himself if Ralph was in the crash. Besides, she mentally slapped herself for worrying about anyone being seriously injured in Drew’s obnoxiously large SUV. 

She was seriously considering just getting into her truck and driving away, except at a glance she knew it didn’t stand a chance. The back was completely crushed in and it was hemorrhaging oil like a trauma patient. Plus, Drew was advancing on her. 

“What the HELL, Happy?” He yelled, apparently too shaken up to continue their passive aggressive game of Not Remembering Each Other’s Name. 

“How many times do I have to tell you the garage is dangerous for civilians, Baker?” she deadpanned, leaning against the corpse of her truck. 

“That’s real comforting seeing as I just dropped my son off to spend the night,” he said, holding his right arm protectively. 

“Implying that Ralph’s a civilian,” she said, pointedly, crossing her arms despite a pain shooting up her arm and into her torso. 

“He’s a kid,” said Drew incredulously, furrowing his eyebrows. He stretched his arms, testing his range of motion. 

“Technically he’s a teenager. A teenaged genius, who knows how to take care of himself,” Happy said, almost letting herself smile at the thought that Ralph took after her in that regard. 

“He doesn’t even have his driver’s license yet,” he retorted, now surveying Happy’s body for injury. She involuntarily flinched as his eyes traveled down her body, hurting her neck in the process. He immediately looked away and kept his distance. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “He’s still a better driver than you, Mickey Mantle.” 

“You taught him how to drive…?” he asked, no longer keeping his distance. 

“Of course I did,” she said, shrugging as much as her body would allow, “just like how I helped teach him how to diffuse a bomb and shoot a gun and--” 

“Shoot a WHAT?” he yelled, slamming his good hand on the truck next to her head. She immediately pushed him violently away, letting out a small whine as pain flared in her shoulder. 

“Quiet down, alright?” She hissed urgently. “You’re the one who wanted to make sure his ‘internship’ at Scorpion was safe. Paige okay’ed Cabe and me to take him to the range and just to teach him the basics, in case he needed to know to protect himself. Don’t worry. We--they wouldn’t let anything happen to him, you know that.” 

Her voice weakened the longer she spoke, rubbing her neck and wincing 

“Are you okay?” he asked, with genuine concern in his voice. He moved forward a step and raised his hands to examine her shoulder but froze them in midair, halting his steps. “I know you live with a doctor, but I can drive you to the hospital, okay? It would be faster than getting back to yours and having him flip out and not being able to treat you because he’s too emotionally--” 

“I don’t need a doctor,” she snapped at him, “I’ve dealt with whiplash hundreds of times.” 

“You’re already starting to bruise, though,” he said, gesturing to the blooming color under the strap of her tanktop, “couldn’t you be, I don’t know, bleeding internally?” 

“I’m not bleeding internally,” she said, sighing. Happy attempted to get a look at the bruise but turning her head and bringing her arm up for her inspection was difficult. She let out another sigh. 

“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes and giving him permission to approach her, “bruises are nothing, normally, but it feels like it might be getting swollen...just, be careful.” 

Drew turned her carefully into the weak light of the garage, and stood far closer than Happy would normally let him stand. His hand on her arm was rough, callused, like her own. Her breathing grew shallow and labored. 

“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” he asked softly, touching the back of her head with a light hand, “that breathing doesn’t sound normal.” 

“I’m not normal,” she grumbled as his hand caressed her hair. “That’s not where i’m hurt.” 

Still, he carefully moved his fingers around her scalp, intently watching her body movements.

“So, Walter hasn’t bought Ralph some kind of high-tech firearm now that he knows how to shoot, right?” he asked to fill the silence. 

“No way,” she scoffed, “I don’t think I could even make something as deadly as a gun safe enough where I’d feel comfortable with him just carrying it around. Although, I do have an idea for a dart gun that I could modify…” 

“He’s way too young to be carrying around any KIND of weapon,” Drew laughed, thinking Happy was joking. 

“I was half his age when I started hiding knives in my boot and modifying bebe guns,” Happy deadpanned. 

“Right,” he said softly, not knowing how to respond. He let his fingers trail from the base of her neck down to her collar bone. She shivered and he took it as a wince as pulled his hand away. 

“Just come back here and tell me if it’s red or swollen or fine so I can pick up the right meds on my way outta town,” she said, more desperation than bite, “I just need to get out of here, okay Baker?” 

“Okay,” he said quietly, nodding. He approached her again, still apprehensive in his stance. Lightly brushing her hair away from her shoulder he ran his eyes over her skin. “Um, may I uh…” 

Happy raised an eyebrow before realizing that the bruise must start under the strap of her tank top and bra. She bit her lip. 

“It’s probably fine, what you can see isn’t red, right? Then I’m fine,” she said, quickly, scooting away from him, “I’ll just look in the mirror at a rest stop once I’m out of this goddamn city.” 

“Um, how exactly do you plan on getting out of this ‘goddamn city’ anyway?” he asked her, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans and nodding at the back of her truck. 

“Well you totaled my truck, so the least you can do is give me a ride to the bus stop,” she said as if it was obvious, walking around him to the passenger side of his SUV. 

“You’re...just going to leave?” He asked trailing behind her, “but you love...this truck.” 

“Not a sentimental person,” she said drily, opening up the door and staring inside the vehicle. She would have to pull herself up to get in. “I changed my mind, think I’m just gonna walk.” 

Drew chuckled from behind her. 

“I dislike this just as much as you do,” he said before putting his hands on her waist and helping her into his SUV. She gaped at him as he closed her door. 

“So, let me get this straight,” he said once he pulled himself inside, “you run into me but I’m the one doing favors for you.” 

“Geez, man, you can also buy me a drink to dull the pain you and your overly flashy vehicle caused,” she said, smirking, feeling better inside the car rather than out in the open with security cameras. 

He blinked at her for several silent seconds until he shrugged and started the car. 

“Bar then bus stop, then?” 

“Bar then bus stop.” 

_x_

It was more like bar, then a different bar, then a dark alley behind a different bar, and then his apartment. 

In Drew’s defense, he did have control of the situation for the first hour. They sat quietly, Happy staring straight ahead and Drew staring down at his glass. The bartender wouldn’t have known they were there together if it wasn’t Drew who threw crumpled dollar bills down every time Happy grunted out an order...which was often. It wasn’t until Drew tried to make small talk, did his hold on the situation start to crumble. 

“So Ralph talks about you a lot,” he said, tapping his fingers on his glass. “That’s how I know you love driving horribly and recklessly in that truck of yours.” 

“Is there a question in there or do you just like hearing your own voice?” Happy asked, swiveling the bar stool to look at him. 

“Just...don’t you want to fix it up before you leave?” He asked, daring to look her in the eye, “I mean, I personally think it’s debatable but you’d probably prefer it over the bus.” 

You don’t think I have some kind of appointment I’m trying to get to out of town? One that I need to get to on time?” She asked before finishing off another drink. “I can have appointments.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” he said, eyeing the growing collection of empty glasses next to her, “but what kind of appointment is this important? I would get it if it’s a case, you know big world saving stuff, but your boss is uh...busy playing house at the moment.” 

“I am completely capable of saving the world myself,” she muttered. Drew was impressed that such a small woman could drink the amount of alcohol Happy had put in her body and manage not to slur her words even a little. Sure she was actually speaking to him which suggested the drinks were affecting her, but still. 

“I honestly do not doubt that,” he said, standing up, “but I don’t know how heroic you’ll manage to be after a few more drinks, so let’s get you tucked into an uncomfortable bus seat so you can sleep this off before your big important appointment.” 

She sighed, making no move to get up. Propping her arm up on the bar, she leaned her head against it and looked up at him. 

“I’m not a hero,” she whispered, and Drew had to bend down to her it, like it was a secret, “not very important, either, in the grand scheme of the world and life cycles and that junk. In fact, there are people, people that you may know actually, who wouldn’t just get on fine without me, but would probably thrive.” 

“This must be what it looks like when geniuses get drunk,” he said simply, trying to figure out if he could drag her out of the bar without getting himself seriously injured, “I’ll be on the lookout for bouts of depression and self-pity along with a slew of lies as Ralph ages.” 

I’m just tipsy, baseball man,” Happy said, standing up from the stool as stable as ever, “so if you take me somewhere with food, as well as booze, I will pay.” 

It was as she was sauntering out the door without any kind of confirmation from him, did Drew realize that he never really had any control of the situation to begin with. He decided to go along with whatever the strange, brilliant, beautiful woman who attached herself to him wanted to do. He was simply a man and she was simply a ticking time bomb, so he might as well be there for her...and maybe try to be a hero himself. 

The next bar Happy directed him to was louder and much more crowded than the previous, and it seemed to affect her personality. While Drew tried to spend as little time as possible with Scorpion, Happy always seemed cool and collected, soft-spoken even. The ranting woman in front of him was a stark contrast to the Happy he knew from the garage, who welded in serious solitude at her workbench. 

“I’m smart enough to know that you’re judging me right now,” she said, leaning over the table so he could hear her, “even with my low EQ, I know what judgment looks like, believe me. But I would like to inform you that I’m just doing what he does, and is probably doing right now, so if anything you should be judging him.” 

“I’m going to go find you something starchy and fatty to eat, okay? And maybe some black coffee from the gas station across the street,” he told her, lightly. <

“That’s a MYTH!” she yelled after him. He shook his head as he walked away, a small smile on his face. 

After he ordered her gross bar food, he tapped the top of the bar in impatient waiting. Stretching his pitching arm he turned to check on his ex’s drunk co-worker, wondering when exactly his life stopped making sense. 

“Dammit, Quinn,” he muttered when the crowd parted and his eyes landed on his companion. Happy was laughing with a man sitting in Drew’s seat, and he couldn’t help but stare at the bewildering sight. Drew knew what flirting looked like, he was a top notch-flirter, if he could have gone into flirting instead of baseball, he would have. It looked more forced and awkward than sexy on Happy, but it was definitely flirting. 

With a grunt a basket with a mixture of mozzarella sticks and fried pickles were dropped in front of Drew and he snatched it away with a frown. He let out a sigh before returning to Happy and her new friend. 

“Heeey, babe,” he said, voice bright, and putting his free arm lightly around Happy’s shoulder, “I got your favorite. I know it’s not totally healthy for the baby, but hey, it’s better than those 10 packs a day or your drinking problem.” 

Happy pursed her lips and clenched her fists as her prey turned pale. 

“I didn’t...I’ll uh be going now,” the man said, slowly backing away. 

Happy glared at Drew but he just rolled his eyes dramatically, detaching himself and moving across from her. He popped a pickle slice into his mouth and looked at her expectedly. 

“I thought I was giving you the benefit of the doubt,” she said slowly, her anger seeping out as over punctuation, “but turns out I was just blinded by my own parental related issues. You really are an asshole.” 

“Now I almost have the whole set,” he said as he took a bite of a mozzarella stick, a long string of cheese protruding from his mouth. Happy continued to glare at him. 

“Of members of Team Scorpion to call me an asshole,” he clarified, covering his full mouth, “or, at least that’s what I think O’Brien and the doctor call me. I had to delete my search history after that.” 

Happy snorted, smirking in a way that was far less a half smile than it was a half grimace. Drew pushed the plastic basket towards her. 

“Eat,” he said simply, not looking in her direction. 

She stared at his evading face and then glanced down at the food, chewing on her lip in consideration. Ultimately, she placed a napkin down carefully and scooped up all the hot mozzarella sticks in her tiny hands, transferring them to the napkin in front of her. 

Excuse me?” Drew asked, turning to her again, his eyebrow raised in amusement. She pushed the basket back, hard enough to cause most of the fried pickles to bounce out onto the sticky table. 

“Those are gross,” Happy said with disgust in her voice. She pulled her napkin full of grease closer so she could protect it with an arm. Drew thought she looked like squirrel. An adorable, angry squirrel. 

“I think they’re good,” he said, shrugging. 

“You would,” she scoffed. 

Drew clicked his tongue and pulled out his phone to play a mindless candy matching game as Happy ate her hoard of mozzarella sticks in silence. She glanced at him once, and realized she left her phone in her truck. She mentally kicked herself. 

When Drew looked back up a while later he found Happy slumped over the back of her chair, staring into the crowd with her face like stone. 

“Hey,” he said, concern heavy in his voice before he could catch himself. He found himself wanting to reach out to her, offer her comfort in someway. Despite the constant string of insults about his intelligence, he still knew he was smarter than that. “Let’s go find that mythical coffee.” 

It wasn’t a question, it was an order. Happy gave a curt nod before standing up and walking away before pushing in her chair or waiting for Drew. 

He was surprised to find her waiting for him when he opened the gas station door, bells jingling, coffee in hand. He wasn’t one for gambling but he would have bet money she would have fled, but there she was, sitting on the curb with her elbows propped up on her wide-spread knees. Drew didn’t say anything, just offered her his hand. She looked at it, then back up to his face, and back at his hand. Without a word, she pushed herself up...or at least tried to, anyway. Half way up she lost her balance and started wobbling ungracefully back to the ground. Drew snatched her wrist, easily pulling her back up so she was practically in his arms. 

“There ya go,” he said, relaxing his grip on her small wrist but still not removing his hands. He didn’t know why he he let his hand fall into a caress of her arm, but then again she wasn’t moving away either. She just stood there looking up at him with a slightly offended, but mostly shocked, expression on her face. Her arms were on his chest, as if she was still bracing herself...which, Drew suddenly realized, she probably was, due to the copious amount of alcohol the tiny woman just consumed. 

He dropped his arm away from her and stepped away, running his hand over his hair. Happy glanced around at her surroundings, grounding herself. When she turned her head her hair shifted and Drew caught a glimpse of the bruise which was no longer just hiding under her tank top. It had only been a few hours and it was black running into blue into yellow where is creeped up her neck. 

“Bro, your neck,” was all he could get out before she shushed him with a wave of her hand. 

“Bro,” she said drily, “I drank so much, can’t even feel it anymore. Besides, I think it’s finally bus stop time. C’mon, muscles.” 

Drew grinned as Happy turned away and started in the direction of his SUV. He stood still for just a second, shaking his head as he watched her. It was times like these that made him understand why Paige was so attached to the team of geniuses. They were certainly...interesting, with the tiny mechanic probably taking the cake. 

He jogged up to her easily and stuck the coffee cup out in front of her. She side-eyed him, more out of show than anything, before giving in and accepting the warm beverage. They walked in comfortable silence, both of Happy’s hands around the shoddy plastic of the coffee cup, Drew with his thumbs in his pockets as he swaggered next to her. 

“So, you’re really leaving,” he said slowly, breaking the cozy silence that had settled between them. 

“I really am,” she said drily. 

"You’re just quitting your perfect, well-paying job doing what you love where you’re basically a Homeland Security agent and mess around with your best friends and save people's’ lives. Ok yeah seems reasonable,” he said, chuckling to himself and nodding the most sarcastic nod Happy had ever seen. “You’re not going to explain yourself, are you?” 

“Not on your life, Yogi Berra,” she said, smirking despite herself. 

“Hey, you must be sobering up,” he pointed out, laughing. “You thought of a name of a real life ‘baseball man.’” 

She snorted and tried to cover it up by taking a large gulp of coffee. She wanted the caffeine to kick in. Sluggish, she almost wore herself out trying to keep up with Drew’s long strides. He slowed his pace and once again they fell into a silence. A silence that didn’t last too terribly long at all. 

“You know what I’m gonna say, Quinn,” he sighed. 

“I really don’t, Baker, because I’m not a fucking behaviorist and you’re not a genius,” Happy said, trying to keep her voice even. She didn’t need him to abandon here on the streets of LA while she was emotional and drunk. She threw her now almost empty coffee cup into a trash can as she passed, not even bothering to glance if the cup made it in. It did. “I don’t know what real humans are going to say at any given time. They’re unreliable, no offense.” 

“I’ve already taken as much offense as I can handle from your friends, the rest just kind of bounces off,” he said, giving her a smile. It quickly faded away when it wasn’t reciprocated. “What I was going to say, is that you can do whatever the hell you want, but my son is going to--” 

Happy cut him off by extending an arm out in front of him to point across the street. 

“Ay, I know a shortcut,” she said before literally pushing him towards a dark alley, one that Drew really didn’t want to go into. 

“Are you scared, Baker?” Happy asked when he tensed up, with the first real laugh he heard from her that night. “Aren’t you supposed to be all…?” She waved her hands around before settle on a flexing pose. “Grr, booze, baseball, babes, I can choke out a bear, oh yeah.” 

In reality, she was doing an impression of Toby doing an impression of Drew. An impression that, if sober, she would definitely not be doing. 

Drew exploded with laughter, so much so that even Happy was afraid for a second who or what could hear how loud he was being. She did admit they weren’t on the best side of town, but that was to her advantage. She knew her way around better than she knew herself. 

“Shut up,” she told him while she suppressed a smile. She tucked her hair behind her ear as she surveyed her surroundings. “We’ll be back at your compensation car in like two minutes if you just hurry up and follow me.” 

He took a large gulp of air to regain his composure. 

“Right,” he said, following her even further between the two buildings. “Wait, my what car? Compensation for what?” 

“Your dick,” she said, grinning to herself and not turning around so she could regain some intimidation over him. 

“You know,” he said, shaking a finger at her back just for his own benefit to his dramatics, “I don’t always get you and Curtis, but then you say shit like that and I realize how perfectly matched you both are.”<

She spun around to glare at him, and even she could see he purposefully brought Toby up. It’s something Toby himself would do, something she saw through the first week she worked with him. Something she allowed herself to play along with anyway because talking really did make her feel better. _Not anymore,_ she told herself, _and certainly not with Drew._

“Shut up, Baker,” she growled, fists clenched. She turned around before she could let herself slug him. “You don’t know anything about anything.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, putting his hands up, yet again for no apparent reason. He continued to follow her in silence, stepping over undisguisable lumps on the ground, for about thirty seconds. “I do know how much you love your truck, though.”

She stopped dead in her tracks and closed her eyes.

“How long have you had that truck, anyway?” He asked, tripping over half a discarded ladder but catching himself before he fell into her stilled form. “A long time, right?”

“Yes,” she breathed through clenched teeth as she flexed her punching hand.

“You’ve been through a lot with that truck, yeah? Probably been in a lot worse crashes than tonight, I’m sure,” he said, standing off to her side but looking intensely at her profile. “But you always fixed it. Me? I would have given up on that hunk of metal a long time ago--”

 

Happy’s eyes snapped open and she turned her head suddenly to glare at him. Drew thought it looked like a scene from a horror movie.

 

“But I am not a mechanical genius. You, you never gave up. You knew you were good enough to fix it, so you did,” he took a step closer to her, “I don’t know why this time would be any difference.”

 

“Toby’s not a truck, okay?!” She yelled, throwing her hands up so violently that Drew had to jump out of the way, almost landing on the ladder. “I can’t call a tow-truck for our relationship. I can’t pop open the hood and see what’s wrong. Your metaphor doesn’t work.”

 

She ended up growling her words, spitting them out like they were poison. She turned towards Drew but looked almost everywhere then at him.

 

“I’m not giving up on anything, I’m not acting any differently than anyone else who’s fiancee walked out on them,” She finally dragged her eyes to his face. “In fact, know what Toby did when Amy left him? He went and got drunk and gambled away all their money and then he slept with the one person she hated the most! Some woman from med school who stabbed her in the back...literally I think, with a scalpel.”

 

“I didn’t--” Drew started, but decided it would be best to clam up.

 

“You know,” she said, pointing at Drew angrily, “if Collins wasn’t in prison, I would. I don't even care anymore, you know? Just…” Her angry faded for a moment, her voice hoarse and tired. “Just to be normal, do something he would do.”

 

“I don’t know how to break this to you, but he’s not the poster-child for normal either,” Drew said, his face honest and angry. “You are infinitely more normal than that quack, okay? Hell, Sylvester’s more normal -- WALTER is more normal. I can’t believe I’m saying that...but since I am speaking honestly here, the doc’s a pretentious elitist asshole.”

 

“You JUST said we were a perfect match,” she said, completely fed up but somehow still with anger to spare.

 

“Jesus, Happy. You make him bearable!” Drew yelled to the sky.

 

Before he could look back down at her, he was being yanked down by the front of his t-shirt and Happy’s lips collided with his. His first thought was that she was attacking him, attempting to kill him with a method he wasn’t familiar with.

 

“Heyheyhey,” he said when he struggled free, gasping for air, “what--”

 

She reached up to the back of his head to grab at his hair and looked him dead in the eye, keeping him firmly in place.

 

“You talk just as much as he does,” she said. It sounded like a dare. “Kiss me, Baker. Don’t tell me you’ve never considered it.”

 

“You’re engaged...and frankly more than a little terrifying,” he breathed, in awe of her eyes digging through him, “I really never did.”

 

“Well, start considering.” she said, her voice still like daggers, but slightly duller daggers, Drew decided. Her eyes searched his face, letting him decide whether or not this was going to happen.

 

“You’re drunk,” he whispered. Despite his words his hands traveled to her face. Even though he knew it was wrong, knew he couldn’t let it happen, he just wanted to hold her face in his hands while he had the chance. He just wanted to do what the team did everyday: the impossible. He wanted to try to contain the fire that was Happy Quinn, even just for a night. He knew it was pointless, knew nothing could come from it, but he cradled the face of the most interesting and powerful woman he ever met in his own two hands.

 

“My brain doesn’t work like yours. Alcohol affects me differently, I’m basically sober,” she said, shrugging just a little. He could tell if he didn’t kiss her soon she was going to pull away, run away. Run away from him, from Scorpion, from Ralph and Paige, from her truck.

 

“I mean, I did buy you mozzarella sticks and coffee,” he said, his face twisting into a smug mask that he hoped hid how much he was freaking out.

 

“That’s not how that w--”

 

Drew cut off Happy’s complaint about the mythical black coffee with a kiss. It was a more structural, kiss like kiss then Happy’s had been, but just as urgent, if not more. A hand ran over her jaw and up into her hair, softer than he had ever hoped. His fingers threaded through her hair as he deepened the kiss, throwing Happy off-guard again when she finally started kissing him back.

 

“Whoa,” she said as they broke apart. She wasn’t used to kissing anyone but Toby. She told herself she could get used to it. “Good boy,” she said with a smirk.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Drew muttered before pulling her back to him, hard. She laughed into the kiss and dug her nails into his chest. He took it as a cue to push her up against the rough wall of the alley, making sure his hand still intertwined in her hair protected her head from any impact.

 

“That is so not how this is gonna go,” she growled, lips still against his. He was about to pull back to raise an eyebrow at her, but she bit his lip before he could move. She let it go teasingly slow and ran her hands down his abdomen. It was only when she reached his jeans and pulled him closer to her by his belt loops did she finally release his bottom lip.

 

To her surprise, he let go of her and instead moved his hands to either side of her head and ripped his bottom half away from her clutches. Happy looked up at him, face vulnerable and confused.

 

“Listen,” he said softly, “I know this is probably your thing and I know you’re angry and you want to take it out on someone and I wholeheartedly volunteer, okay? But I need you to know something.”

 

Happy’s confusion turned into apprehension as her mind ran wild, but Drew just returned to his position pressed up against her. Happy had never seen him like this, head down and basically hunched over to press his lips into her hair.

 

“You guys are always insulting my intelligence, but I’m actually a genius, too,” he said, his voice low. A hand slowly played with a lock of her hair while his other was teasingly feather light around her waist.

 

She smirked and bit her lip, having a hard time believing she found a rebound almost as terribly dorky as Toby. Almost.

 

“Lemme guess, your discipline is…?” Happy asked, her voice full of dark humor.

 

“Mmhm, this,” he said in way of confirmation, dipping down further to run his lips over her neck, being careful to avoid her bruised side. “You may know all about quantum mechanics or whatever,” he mumbled, “and you may be the best at what you do, but I’m the best at what I do.”

 

With those words he nipped her neck, not enough to leave a mark but enough to make her gasp. He gripped her waist, grinding against her, eliciting a moan that she desperately tried to stifle.

 

“Told you so,” Drew growled, moving up from her neck to press against her lips - so lightly this time that he thought he felt her arch up try to deepen the kiss. Instead he teasingly flicked his tongue against her lips before pulling away.

 

Happy frowned at him in the low light of the alley. She was impatient and annoyed with her own body for letting him get a response out of her, it just made him more smug. He chuckled before opening his mouth to add what was probably more commentary about how great he was at subduction, but Happy cut him off before he could start.

 

“Can we just go to your place before all your chatter makes me change my mind?” She asked, shivering a little.

 

“Absolutely,” Drew said, shedding his low, teasing voice and instead sounding genuinely excited. It was almost cute, Happy thought.

 

Somewhere in the back of her head, somewhere in the tangle of cords she claims are wired wrong, something was yelling at her. She was too upset to care about the Toby of it all, she’d been ignoring the constant thought of him coming at her like waves. No, this was a fundamental part of her that was protesting, she just couldn't figure out what or why. So, she ignored it and instead spent the car ride feeling Drew up just enough to keep them both in the moment but not enough to risk a crash.

 

x

 

With Happy Quinn’s hands tearing at his clothes before he could even shut his apartment door, Drew finally felt useful. This is what he could contribute, this is what he's good at. So used to being one-upped by geniuses but here, ripping off her jacket and moving under her tank top to skillfully undo her bra to keep two steps ahead of her, this was where he truly did feel like a genius.

 

Happy, on the other hand, was starting to question her own intelligence over her decision. She was furious over how good he actually turned out to be, how he gently he was handling her, how turned on he was making her with just his hands sliding her bra straps down her arms and his mouth on hers. She didn't want to enjoy fucking up her life.

 

She was angry at Toby for leaving, angry at herself for everything else, and angry at Drew for trying to please her. She only knew how to remedy one of those things at that instance.

 

She reached under her tank top to toss her bra behind her without bothering to look where it went, and smirked at Drew.

 

“C’mere,” she mumbled before pulling on the front of his t-shirt to force his face back down to her own, lips on his with as much force as she could muster. Still only in the landing of his apartment she pushed him against the wall, his leg knocking over a propped up baseball bat.

 

“Hap--” Drew started, when she pulled away to focus on unzipping his jeans.

 

“What did I say about chatter?” Happy asked, backing away from him to let him pull off his pants while she hurriedly unzipped hers, wiggled her butt out of them, and then hopped up on the back of his sofa to kick them off. She gave him what she hoped was an intense, maybe even sexy, look. She hoped that it hid her apprehension and mild disgust over the entire situation.

 

Drew grinned at her before stripping off his shirt in one fluid movement -- and there were his abs. His almost obnoxiously chiseled abs.

 

He sauntered over to her and put cupped her face in his hands, kissing her softly. Happy groaned, impatient. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer and forcing her tongue into his mouth.

 

Drew released her face and held her sides, making sure she didn't fall backwards when he grinded against her center. He meant to back up, only meaning to tease her, but she tightened her legs around him, suddenly thrusting his clothed member practically inside her. They both let out small moans, and Drew dug his fingers into her sides. She moved her hands from his shoulders where she was stabilizing herself to move the fabric of her underwear for easy to the side for easy access but Drew decided to battle her for dominance that very moment.

 

He managed to loosen her legs around him -- even though frankly he enjoyed being trapped by her but that wasn’t what tonight was about. He could step away enough to get his hands in between their bodies. Happy hoped he was going for some foreplay, getting her ready, but he pushed up the hem of her tank top instead.

 

“How about we get this off,” he mumbled, sliding a hand under the fabric that just barely covered her at this point, brushing a thumb over her nipple.

 

She didn’t think ahead when she made her move back in the alley. She didn’t want to be fully exposed and vulnerable in front of him. She just wanted to have sex with someone Toby hated...for reasons she was starting to care less about. It was going according to plan and she was starting to lose focus and the handle on her anger. She did not want to be sad and naked in front of Paige’s ex...Ralph’s dad. _‘Ugh, no push THAT thought away, Quinn.'_

 

“Or, or...we could do...this,” Happy said, grabbing Drew’s shoulders, spinning around and pushing him over the couch, letting him take her with so she was laying on top of him on the couch. Her plan was to keep as much clothing on as possible while still straddling his dick.

 

Her plan was slightly interrupted when one of Drew’s surprised arms his a side table and something fell with a smash.

 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said, not looking at whatever mess they had just made and instead wrapped his arms around her and shifted into a more comfortable spot for both of them. “Just let me do this for you, okay? Let me make you feel good.”

 

Happy was spooked by the crash and her mind started running, almost too fast for her to catch up. She was laying on top of Drew and it did not feel good. His entire body was too hard, not soft and comforting like Toby’s. When she fell on Drew it almost hurt...his goddamn abs just not being conducive to comfortable cuddling...which wasn’t even what she wanted to be doing right then. She wanted...fuck, she didn’t know what she wanted anymore.

 

She thought she wanted to make Toby as angry as she was. Get him to yell and to fight, to feel as terrible as she did. Not to hurt him. She thought she wanted to take her anger out on someone she didn’t even like and hurt him in a legal physical way, but Drew was being too good. Maybe she was turning into Toby, maybe she was self-sabotaging.

 

She sat up, straddling those freaking abs, and opened her mouth to tell him to shut up and let her do her thing, which he volunteered for, she was going to remind him...but then her eyes landed on the smashed object on the floor.

 

She ungracefully removed herself from him and the couch, tiptoeing to avoid the broken glass, and carefully picked up the fallen picture frame. Still under a little bit of cracked glass she looked down at Paige and Ralph’s smiling faces. She sighed, holding her other hand up to her face as if trying to stop the feeling of incoming tears. She definitely couldn't push it away any longer.

 

“This,” Happy said, her voice thick, turning around to face Drew, “this doesn’t make me feel good! None of it!”

 

“Yeah,” he said, sitting up now and folding his hands. He looked at the floor. It had been a long ass night. “Yeah.”

 

“What? You’re going to be upset I didn’t fuck you when I am _clearly losing it?”_ Happy asked, angrily dropping the photo back onto the table. “When OF COURSE I’m still drunk, you asshole!”

 

“I just want to help, Happy!” Drew said, once again throwing his hands in the air, having no idea what to do. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. What do you want? You want to wait until we’re both sober to tie me down and do whatever you want with me? We can do that. We can also just sit and talk, okay? I tried that before and it didn’t work because I know I’m the last person you’d open up to, so I went along with this, but look, we can do whatever you want. What do you want?”

 

“I...want to not run away,” she said through sobs, trying her best to stop them. She looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t want to give up my life here,” she looked back down at him, giving him the most genuine look he had ever seen from her, “but mostly I just don’t...I don’t want to lose Toby.”

 

She sat back down next to him, no longer feeling anything between them.

 

“Okay. You want to call him?”

 

Happy shook her head as violently as she felt she could without vomiting.

 

“Okay. You want to fix this in person? Where’d he go? A casino? The garage? I can’t imagine what’s going on in the docs head if he saw your crashed truck -- well to be honest I can’t imagine what ever goes on in his head…” Drew said, rubbing the side of his face, the wear of the night really starting to get to him.

 

“I never thought I’d be saying this...but you were right, Baker. Our relation IS a truck, but I don't think I have the skills to fix it myself” Happy said, once she got her sobs mostly under control.

 

“What makes you think you have to do it by yourself?” Drew asked, looking over at her.

 

“Because he left! He's always the one fixing it but he's GONE and it's just me!” Happy yelled incredulously before falling back into tears. She kept her mouth closed and just wiped her eyes angrily.

 

“Remember how I left Paige and Ralph? I stopped putting in the effort, I gave up, because I was tired of trying to fix what was wrong in our relationship by myself. Paige was busy being a new mom and I was young and dumb so I thought her not having time for me meant she didn't love me anymore. It was shitty of me but I was tired, Happy. I'm retrospect it wasn't her fault but...I think if she called even once to suggest figuring out our shit together, I would have seen how much she did love me and didn’t want to lose me, us, and maybe I wouldn't have lost them.”

 

“How is this story helpful to me in anyway?” Happy snapped...or would have snapped if she had enough energy or willpower to gather the anger. She was starting to feel the throbbing pain in her neck and shoulder again.

 

“I thought she fell out of love with me so I left. She thought that my leaving meant I fell out of love with her. So no one tried to fix something that, you know, was actually fixable or something,” he said, shrugging. “Whatever, you're a genius, you know what I'm trying to say.”

 

“Not exactly. Mostly because I don't think your situation with Paige was anything like what happened with me and Toby, I still think that business was almost entirely your fault...but yeah,” she sighed before getting up to fetch her jeans. “Toby’s not the runner, that’s always been me. We’ll hit his 4 favorite old gambling spots and then the garage, yeah?” Happy asked while she tugged her pants back on.

 

“I didn't mean right now, Quinn, jesus. It's 4 am. How about you clean yourself up a little and get a few hours of sleep? Take my bed, I have experience sleeping on couches,” Drew said with a hint of self-deprecating humor.

 

“No. He probably IS gambling his savings away, getting back in with things he tried so hard to get away from...god I'm so SELFISH. We’re going,” Happy said, strictly, before deflating. “Or just like, order me an Uber? I’ll pay you back.”

 

“No, no,” he sighed, “we’re going. I’ve babysat you this far...besides it’s the least I can do as I feel bad for basically taking advantage of your emotional and secretly drunken state,” he said pulling his clothes back on.

 

“I thought you just wanted to help?” Happy asked, smirking.

 

“Well, yeah, but c’mon, Happy,” he said, looking up from where he was tying his sneakers and squinting at her incredulously. “You haven’t slept, you drank just a...copious amount of alcohol, got all disheveled then had a pretty heavy crying session and you still look hot.”

 

She rolled her eyes and off they went.

 

x

 

At the third casino they stopped at, an employee said that yes - he did see a bearded man in a hoodie and horrible hat come in earlier that night. Happy’s stomach dropped and she thought she was going to be sick. Drew had to drag her back to the SUV but otherwise kept quiet during the ride to the fourth stop, which was a no-go. He wanted, badly, to keep a stream of positive affirmations going but he had a feeling that wasn’t what she needed.

 

The garage. Toby’s car. Happy let out a sigh of relief, tears welling up in her eyes. She opened the door and jumped down, happy to not need Drew’s help for getting out of his compensation car (which she now unfortunately knows first hand that the joke doesn’t hold water).

 

“Hey,” Drew said when she stopped in front of his unrolled window, “maybe don’t use the smashed up truck metaphor when you talk to him, yeah? I’m proud at how well it works but it isn’t exactly romantic.”

 

“Right, yeah,” Happy gave him a small smile. “Thanks...for, you know, trying to help. You did. More or less.”

 

“You’re welcome, Quinn,” he chuckled.

 

She gave him a tiny wave with the arm that wasn’t hurting her and turned around to enter the garage.

 

“Hey, Happy?” Drew called out. “Anyway tonight doesn’t reach Paige?”

 

“I’ll do my best, Derek Jeter,” she called back without turning around. Drew laughed again, running his hand over his face. He shook his head and backed out of the Scorpion parking lot, heading back to his normal life, his head full of images of the amazingly abnormal women he spent the night with.

 

x

 

“...lose them after the bar, Toby, I’m sorry,” Walter’s voice wafted out of the garage when Happy slide through the back door.

 

“Can’t you narrow down the bus stops or airports or wherever you think they might have gone?” Paige asked.

 

“We don’t know that he took her anywhere so savoury! Plus with all the possible buses or trains or planes she could have hopped on and all the stops, we won’t even be close to narrowing down a destination until Sly gets here.” Toby. It was Toby...and he was looking for her.

 

She furrowed her brow. She wanted to stay in the shadows, hell, she was close to quietly ducking out before they noticed her...but it was Toby. It was Toby and he sounded sober and he was here looking for her and not at an illegal poker game. She stepped into the light.

 

“We just have to keep at it…” Toby had his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. He turned around to look at the monitors. “This is what we do. We’re supposed to be able to find people others can’t. This is my fault and I can’t even find her.”

 

“Toby,” Paige said, clutching Walter’s robe around her, staring at Happy wide-eyed.

 

“Did you find --” he asked, turning around. He finally looked at her and his eyes were so different from the last time she saw them, less than 12 hours ago. They were full of emotion -- what emotion, Happy couldn’t figure out. But he was looking at her and he looked so alive, no longer dull and tired and hopeless. “Happy,” he breathed.

 

So they just looked at each other. Paige pulled Walter by his sleeve, indicating they should go back upstairs. Toby and Happy kept looking at each other...until Toby tore his eyes away from her to look her up and down.

 

“I, uh, need a doctor, I guess,” Happy said, awkwardly.

 

“Holy macaroni, Happy,” He didn’t hesitate, he held her waist and pushed back her hair from neck. “What, your new baseball boyfriend didn’t take you to the ER?”

 

Happy just kept looking up at him, tears once again swelling in her eyes.

 

“Come here,” Toby said, a hand on the small of her back, leading her to the couch. He got one of the many first aid kits they keep around the garage out and pulled up a chair to sit across from her.

 

“I’m sorry, Hap,” Toby said quietly, not looking at her but rummaging through the kit. “It was impulsive, it seemed like the right thing--”

 

“Toby, stop,” Happy said, loudly, before realizing Ralph was probably upstairs sleeping. “Don’t--don’t do that. Don’t apologize, please, do anything other than apologizing,” she whispered, her voice sounding as if every word was being ripped out of her vocal chords. She sighed. “I'm the one who's sorry...I almost slept with Drew tonight.”

 

Toby looked up at her...and something Happy thought might be relief passed through his eyes.

 

“Okay. Well, in that case I can still be sorry,” he said, looking back down in the kit and taking a sort of cream out.

 

Happy looked at him, confused.

 

“I almost got back into gambling, you almost slept with someone...really if you take our histories into account they’re both equally fucked up things to do. So for that we’re even,” he said matter-of-factly. “I can still be sorry for leaving, saying I was done...it seemed like the only option, but you know that’s not what I want.”

 

“Then I’m sorry for not yelling at you,” Happy said softly, just a ghost of a smile appearing on her lips.

 

Toby worked in silence, trying to bring down the swelling of Happy’s injury. When bhe was done he looked up at her sadly.

 

“What happens now? I still...don’t see a lot of options,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re...I don’t know Happy, broken.”

 

“Well,” she said, reaching for his hand with her uninjured arm. He gave it to her. “It’s a damn good thing you’re a doctor and I’m a mechanic. We’re really good at fixing things. So that’s what we’ll do. Both of us.”

 

“Together?” Toby asked, rubbing his thumb over her hand.

 

“Together.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title should be sung to the tune of "Stephanie Pratt: Unlikely Voice of Reason" from The Soup. Also: I'm sorry? I feel like I should apologize for...whatever that was. Are Tim and Drew the same character now? Who knows. I'll fix the formatting someday, but that day is not today.


End file.
